Chapter 28 - College Orientation
Emma chose a college two hours away.
Far enough to be hers.
Close enough that Thomas could threaten to appear with pancakes during emergencies.
Sarah handled orientation badly.
Not visibly.
She smiled at resident assistants, carried storage bins, made the bed twice, and pretended the room’s one small window did not make her want to measure escape access.
Emma noticed.
Of course she did.
“Mom.”
Sarah turned from organizing desk supplies by category.
“What?”
“You’re stress alphabetizing.”
Sarah looked down.
Pens.
Sticky notes.
Flashcards.
Tissues.
A small flashlight Thomas had given Emma.
Everything in neat lines.
“I’m helping.”
“You’re building a command center.”
Sarah sat on the bed.
The mattress squeaked.
Emma sat beside her.
The dorm hallway buzzed with parents, carts, laughter, awkward hugs, and the smell of new plastic.
Normal chaos.
Safe chaos.
Sarah looked around the room.
“Do you feel okay here?”
Emma nodded.
“Mostly.”
“Mostly is honest.”
“I checked exits.”
“Good.”
“I met my RA.”
“Good.”
“I put Lydia’s number in my phone even though that is deeply weird.”
“Good.”
Emma nudged her shoulder.
“I also want you to leave before both of us cry in front of strangers.”
Sarah inhaled.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
But she did not move.
Emma reached into her bag and pulled out a small blue plastic button.
Sarah stared.
“What is that?”
“Not connected to anything.”
Emma placed it on the desk.
“Just a button.”
Sarah did not understand.
Emma smiled softly.
“I bought it online. It’s blue. For breakfast.”
Sarah laughed.
Then cried.
Exactly what Emma had been trying to avoid.
Emma rolled her eyes and hugged her anyway.
“I’m not keeping it because I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m keeping it because I like remembering we made new meanings.”
Sarah held her daughter tightly.
Not too tight.
She was learning.
At the parking lot, Thomas waited beside the truck.
He had insisted on coming but refused to enter the dorm because “young people and beanbag chairs are none of my business.”
Emma hugged him last.
He slipped something into her palm.
Cash.
Obviously.
She looked at it.
“Grandpa.”
“Emergency pancake fund.”
“I have a meal plan.”
“I said pancakes.”
She tucked it into her pocket.
Then touched her two-finger necklace.
“I’ll call.”
Thomas nodded.
“When you want. Not because you must.”
Emma looked at Sarah.
That line mattered to both of them.
When they drove away, Sarah did not look back until the stop sign.
Emma was standing outside the dorm, backpack on one shoulder, sunlight on her face.
She lifted two fingers.
Not the emergency signal.
Not now.
A wave.
May you like
Sarah lifted two fingers back.
Then let the car move forward.
